This time, when that careful and deliberate placement caught Ignis' ear, the herbs being subjected to the expert machinations of his knife were granted no mercy, like the potatoes had. His steady hand slowed, bit did not stop, as he considered the sound again. Getting closer, he felt, to identifying it, a better guess on the material, the size, if his assumptions about the weight of Liliana's hand as she placed it were close...coins, perhaps? Rings? Some small medallion or other accoutrements? Some sliver of an artifact from her shop?
Of course, all speculation on that matter was put firmly aside, the weight of her words superceding any consideration of what had been in her hands. The knife stopped, poised over a new puzzle, of how to respond. The first impulse was, naturally, the defensive one, to pluck out one of several flippant and dry quips to work as a nice, comfortable barrier against the thrum stirred up from deep inside of him. And then the second, to respond in kind, with the bare, frank honesty of what he really felt.
Both felt dangerous, in their own unique ways.
"Good," he finally said, setting down the knife and gathered the herbs with his hand to add to the bowl. "That is precisely where I was intending to be."
no subject
Of course, all speculation on that matter was put firmly aside, the weight of her words superceding any consideration of what had been in her hands. The knife stopped, poised over a new puzzle, of how to respond. The first impulse was, naturally, the defensive one, to pluck out one of several flippant and dry quips to work as a nice, comfortable barrier against the thrum stirred up from deep inside of him. And then the second, to respond in kind, with the bare, frank honesty of what he really felt.
Both felt dangerous, in their own unique ways.
"Good," he finally said, setting down the knife and gathered the herbs with his hand to add to the bowl. "That is precisely where I was intending to be."